


starts to get surreal

by playedwright



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Grocery Shopping, M/M, Pining, oblivious idiots, they literally just.....be soft for 3k words idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright
Summary: Grantaire is taken aback at first. There’s no way that’s actually Enjolras standing in front of the milk. But it definitely is, wearing a sweater that is most likely Combeferre’s—judging by the way it almost reaches his knees—with his hair in a half-attempted bun and honest-to-god glasses on his nose.He blinks, like maybe it’ll take away what has to be a fever hallucination—because he’s about one hundred percent sure Enjolras has never stepped foot in a grocery store before in his life. Then, because Grantaire has a tendency to not know how to shut his mouth ever, he blurts out, “Enj?”*five instances enjolras and grantaire go to the grocery store, and what becomes of it.





	starts to get surreal

**Author's Note:**

> oh, how i missed writing for les mis.

Out of all of the people and all of the places, he runs into Enjolras at the grocery store.

 

Grantaire is taken aback at first. There’s no way that’s actually  _ Enjolras _ standing in front of the milk. But it definitely is, wearing a sweater that is most likely Combeferre’s—judging by the way it almost reaches his knees—with his hair in a half-attempted bun and honest-to-god glasses on his nose.

 

He blinks, like maybe it’ll take away what has to be a fever hallucination—because he’s about one hundred percent sure Enjolras has never stepped foot in a grocery store before in his life. Then, because Grantaire has a tendency to not know how to shut his mouth ever, he blurts out, “Enj?”

 

Grantaire doesn’t even have time to cringe before Enjolras is whirling around to look at him.

 

His expression is hard to read. It usually is, especially when it’s an expression directed at Grantaire. His mouth twists somewhat pleasantly. “Grantaire,” says Enjolras, and he sounds surprised.

 

“You shop for groceries?” asks Grantaire.

 

Enjolras glances down at his basket with a sour look on his face. “If you can call it that,” he mutters darkly, like the coffee beans and flour have personally wronged him.

 

Grantaire bites his lip to hold back the laugh threatening to break free. “Flour?”

 

“Oh.” Enjolras turns a delightful flushed color. “I thought I grabbed sugar. It’s been a while since I’ve slept.”

 

“I can tell,” Grantaire remarks dryly.

 

Enjolras stands there, scowling at his container of salt, in front of the milk, seemingly unaware of the way Grantaire just stands there waiting. It’s a whole new kind of Enjolras being oblivious when it concerns him, but Grantaire does have a dinner to make and a deadline to keep.

 

He clears his throat.

 

Enjolras actually looks annoyed when he catches Grantaire’s gaze.

 

Grantaire points. “I need milk?” he adds, when Enjolras blinks slowly at him. Embarrassed, Enjolras shuffles out of the way. He’s hovering as Grantaire shifts forward and grabs the carton he needs—Grantaire is all too aware of the way Enjolras lingers and looks hesitantly. “What.”

 

The delightful flush is back. Grantaire might even be charmed by it if he weren’t too busy wishing he were at home. “Um,” Enjolras says.

 

“The ever eloquent leader, speechless in a grocery store,” Grantaire sighs. “A sight the world never thought they’d see. Spit it out. Do you need directions to the eggs? Or perhaps assistance in couponing?”

 

Enjolras scowls.

 

“Okay,” Grantaire mutters, drawing out the word. “I’ll be going, then. See you ‘round, Enj.”

 

“Wait,” Enjolras says quickly, stepping forward after Grantaire. His ears are pink, Grantaire notices with a jolt. It’s almost endearing. “I don’t… Usually shop for groceries, you were right. Combeferre handles it most often. But Courfeyrac is sick, and Ferre has been staying with him, and…”

 

“You have no clue what you’re doing?” finishes Grantaire. Enjolras nods, looking sheepish. Grantaire sighs again. “Well, come along, then. I’ll show you all the wonders to be found in the grocery store. What exactly do you need to buy?”

 

Enjolras looks puzzled. “Um, groceries.”

 

“You do realize coffee and sugar does not count as a food group, right? Did you need milk? Combeferre didn’t send you with a list or anything?”

 

“Combeferre didn’t send me with a list because Combeferre didn’t send me,” Enjolras retorts. “I am more than capable of making the decision to go grocery shopping by myself. Especially when our refrigerator has been reduced to day-old takeout and what looks like Gavroche’s old science experiment.”

 

“Capable of making the decision to go but incapable of doing any worthwhile shopping.”

 

To Grantaire’s absolute surprise, Enjolras actually laughs. He shakes his head sheepishly and doesn’t catch Grantaire’s eye. “To be fair, Courfeyrac isn’t allowed to do the shopping because he buys too many sweets, and Combeferre doesn’t allow me to because he expects I’ll come home with only coffee or loads worth of fruit that I bought from a street vendor.”

 

Grantaire can’t help but smile at that. “It does sound like you,” he allows.

 

And Enjolras beams at him.

 

It’s weird to see this side of Enjolras. The embarrassed looks and the flushed cheeks, and most of all, the soft smile he can’t seem to keep off his face. They aren’t arguing, which is perhaps the wildest part of it all. Quippy remarks escape Grantaire’s mouth out of habit, but what is usually baiting comes out now as teasing, and instead of raising his hackles Enjolras actually teases him back.

 

In the baking goods aisle, Grantaire stops Enjolras as he goes to return the flour and says, “You know you could keep the flour and try your hand at baking one day. Since you’re trying new things and all.”

 

Enjolras sticks his tongue out at Grantaire, but he grabs the sugar—correctly, this time—and places it in the cart with the flour without saying another word.

 

Perhaps Grantaire feels that this whole thing is so peculiar because he’s not used to seeing this side of Enjolras. He knows they’re friends; hell, Enjolras was the first one to show up to his big boxing match last week, and sometime around his birthday he found out Enjolras was behind the majority of the planning. But he also knows that Enjolras doesn’t understand him, the way he doesn’t always understand Enjolras’s ideals. Their arguments aren’t for nothing, after all. Some are bred as a battle of wit, most arise out of disagreements. It’s the nature of their relationship.

 

But this—Enjolras laughing in a  _ grocery store _ . It’s something Grantaire couldn’t have ever imagined, even in his wildest dreams.

 

Hell, he’s not blind. And he’s not oblivious to his own feelings. Grantaire knows that the reason this feels so bizarre is because a part of him has been longing for this for ages, for years, since practically the first moment he laid eyes on Enjolras all that time ago. The simplicity of it, the domesticity… 

 

Grantaire shakes his head, shakes the thought, and goes to cover Enjolras’s eyes as they pass by the coffee. He tries not to dwell on the way Enjolras’s delighted, exasperated laugh echoes through the entire store.

 

* * *

 

 

**From: enjolras**

**[8:32]** I made cookies from scratch—WITH THE FLOUR. Come eat some before Courfeyrac finds out and steals them all.

 

**To: enjolras**

**[8:33]** you are full of surprises aren’t you.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The funny thing is, it becomes almost a regular occurrence.

 

They’re gathered at Feuilly’s apartment. Up until a few moments ago, Grantaire had been engaged in a very intense thumb war with Bahorel. There’s a game of Jenga happening on the coffee table—Enjolras pulled his hair back, proving how serious the game was, and Joly looks ready to jump at any moment. Combeferre and Courfeyrac left earlier, Bossuet is plucking aimlessly at a guitar while Feuilly teaches Musichetta a Polish dance.

 

It isn’t late, not by any means, but Grantaire’s got a busy day tomorrow and has to go buy things for dinner, so he stands and winces when his back cracks, and gives everyone a goofy smile when they glance at him.

 

“Got to head out,” he explains. “I’m going to run to the grocery to pick up some things for that fancy dinner I’m apparently having tomorrow.”

 

To his surprise, Enjolras stands up.

 

“Mind if I go with you?” he says calmly.

 

Grantaire blinks. “Uh, sure?”

 

There’s that soft smile again—the one that is quickly becoming Grantaire’s new favorite. He scarcely notices as Enjolras starts moving, gathering his coat and patting Joly on the head as he passes on his turn for Jenga. “I’ve got to pick up some cold medicine for Ferre. I told him this is what he deserves for hanging out with Courfeyrac despite his being ill, but we do have an important debate coming up and he needs to be healthy.” Enjolras sighs.

 

They say their goodbyes—Grantaire pointedly ignores the way Bossuet’s eyebrow shoots up when Enjolras gives Grantaire his coat and presses his hand gently to Grantaire’s wrist—and just like that they’re outside the apartment and walking side by side on the street.

 

“Fancy dinner?” Enjolras blurts out . Grantaire’s steps stutter.

 

“Um, yeah,” explains Grantaire. “I’m meeting with a gallery representative. They don’t know anything about my art, but I’m hoping with some fancy dinner and a bottle of wine I might be able to convince them to give me a chance in their next showcase.”   
  


Enjolras lights up. “Grantaire! That’s incredible!”

 

“It’s not,” Grantaire argues quietly. “It’s not even a big deal, it’s nothing official.”

 

“Still,” Enjolras says, soft. He nudges Grantaire’s shoulder with his own. “You deserve to be celebrated. And you know we would all be proud of you.”

 

Grantaire rolls his eyes. “This is why I didn’t say much about it, because it’s not a big deal. It’s noodles and cheap wine and me pretending to be charming.”

 

This causes Enjolras to frown. They’re at the grocery now, Enjolras trailing alongside Grantaire blindly as he makes his way through the aisles. Grantaire tries not to stare. “You don’t have to pretend to be charming, Grantaire, you  _ are  _ charming. And you’re talented.”

 

“Two compliments in a row? Don’t strain yourself,” Grantaire says quickly. His pulse is quickening and Enjolras’s words are echoing over and over in his ears. He’s worried that any more praise from Enjolras will turn him into a literal babbling mess.

 

But Enjolras is still frowning, and he touches Grantaire’s wrist for the second time in the span of thirty minutes. Grantaire literally is not going to survive this. “I mean every word,” says Enjolras sincerely. “Don’t tell me you think I keep your company solely because of the way you like to argue?”

 

The corner of Enjolras’s mouth twitches up, and Grantaire can’t help but grin back. “Well…”

 

Enjolras squeezes his wrist gently, and without warning shifts from sincere to determined as he looks down the aisle. “Now, let’s get everything you need to make this dinner as epic as it can be. What are you making?”

 

Grantaire blinks. “Do you want to come?” he blurts out.

 

Enjolras’s steps falter. “What?”

 

_ Fuck _ . He can feel his heartbeat in his throat and now his palms are sweaty, but Enjolras is looking at him with an expression that is equal parts shocked and hopeful and it’s too damn similar to everything Grantaire feels when it comes to Enjolras. He swallows.

 

“Um,” Grantaire says. “The dinner. Do you want to come? You might be able to help, after all; you’ve got more charm in your pinky than I’ve got in my entire body, and having someone like you advocate for the artwork of someone like me could be really beneficial, and—”

 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras interrupts. Grantaire’s favorite smile is back on his face, timid and pleased. “I would love to come. Thank you for inviting me.”

 

So. That just happened. And Grantaire tries not to replay the conversation over because they’re still shopping and Enjolras walks just a bit too close for it to be accidental. And then Grantaire has a thought that causes him to trip over his feet as they approach the cashier.

 

_ Holy shit. Did I just ask Enjolras on a date? _

 

 

* * *

 

 

**From: enjolras**

**[10:15]** Thank you for letting me come tonight. It was a lot of fun. I told you they’d love you—maybe now you’ll believe me.

 

**To: enjolras**

**[10:21]** i always believe you e. thank you for coming, i couldn’t have done it without you.

 

**From: enjolras**

**[10:23]** You could have. But I’m glad I got to be a part of it

 

 

* * *

 

 

So honestly, Grantaire isn’t even surprised when Enjolras texts him at midday on an ordinary Saturday.

 

He rolls his eyes and laughs a bit breathlessly, but quickly grabs his coat and shoes and heads out the door to meet Enjolras at the grocery store.

 

Enjolras stands in front of the doors, and he doesn’t notice Grantaire right away. It gives Grantaire time to notice Enjolras’s new haircut, and unfamiliar coat. He feels shabby suddenly, with his scuffed up shoes and beanie covering his curls, but Enjolras breaks into a beam the second he catches sight of Grantaire and it makes everything else seem pale in comparison.

 

“Thank you for coming to help,” he says, sounding just as sheepish as he did the first time they did this. “Courfeyrac is on a health kick but refuses to buy his own fruits and vegetables, and I’ve got no way of knowing what things are rotten or ripe.”

 

Grantaire shrugs. “It wasn’t a big deal—”

 

Enjolras grabs his arm and squeezes. That damned smile is back. “I still appreciate it.”

 

“Yeah, whatever, I think you’re just using me because you don’t like going places alone,” teases Grantaire. Enjolras rolls his eyes. “You don’t deny it! In fact, I can’t recall a time you’ve ever gone anywhere alone.”

 

“I enjoy spending time with people, is all.”

 

Grantaire can’t help but smile. “Yeah, well,” he mutters. “People usually enjoy spending time with you.”

 

And Enjolras laughs.

 

Grantaire wants to ask him about the other night—wants to thank him again for wasting hours wining and dining a stranger for the sake of selling Grantaire’s talents, wants to ask him if he thought it was a date and if he  _ agreed  _ because it was a date, if he wants to do it again  _ alone _ . But he doesn’t ask any of these things.

 

The grocery store is sacred ground. Here, they don’t argue. Here, there is teasing and laughter and soft smiles, and inside jokes and hope. Perhaps there’s an ounce of selfishness in this, but this is just for Grantaire—it’s his and Enjolras’s. This is the side of Enjolras that only belongs to him, in a way, and it’s not something Grantaire wants to ruin for the sake of something as seemingly insignificant as his  _ feelings  _ for Enjolras. There have always been feelings, as there always will be. The same way there will always be battles to fight, scenes to paint, and words to be spoken, Grantaire will  _ always  _ have feelings for the boy who is righteous fire at his brightest and tender warmth at his kindest.

 

So he says nothing. For now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**From: enjolras**

**[11:01]** Hey Grantaire. What did Bacon say to Tomato?

 

**To: enjolras**

**[11:01]** ……….what

 

**From: enjolras**

**[11:02]** Lettuce get together!

 

**To: enjolras**

**[11:03]** i’m blocKING YOU.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m just saying, supporting local markets should be more widely accepted. They’re small business owners who grow their own produce and who can testify firsthand where their products came from.”

 

“Sure, but the problem with local markets is that their produce is expensive. Rightfully so, but that makes it inaccessible to lower-income households. Sometimes supporting the little guy isn’t in the best interest of the consumer.”

 

“The reason things are priced so low is because of capitalistic pigs who throw away excess food instead of donating it—”

 

“Yes, yes, capitalism is garbage, you’ve made this argument before. Are you going to hand me the soy milk or are you going to stand there arguing until it spoils?”

 

“I mean,  _ honestly,  _ what’s the purpose of exporting all these goods and selling them cheap just to throw away the excess instead of giving it to people who still can’t afford it?! It’s garbage—”

 

“Come on, you big lug, shout at me while I’m debating what cereal to buy.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**To: enjolras**

**[1:14]** ferre just sent me a text that reads: “we are out of eggs”. care to elaborate?

 

**From: enjolras**

**[1:16]** Our household is out of eggs, we need eggs

 

**To: enjolras**

**[1:17]** i don’t live in your household

 

**From: enjolras**

**[1:18]** Get your shoes on, I’m two minutes away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Why are you and Enjolras going on grocery store dates instead of like, I don’t know, regular people dates?” Joly asks one day, without any warning.

 

Grantaire startles so hard he nearly spills his water, hissing, “ _ Shut up _ ,” before hastily glancing around the room to make sure Enjolras is still in the kitchen. “Jesus, Joly, bite your tongue! What if he had heard?”

 

“Then maybe he would tell you to take him on a real date and end all of our sufferings,” Joly retorts. He shifts closer to Grantaire. “I’m serious, man, we’re all going insane watching you two dance around one another. Your weird shopping dates were cute at first but now it’s like watching the world’s worst attempt at foreplay.”

 

“ _ Joly _ !”

 

Joly throws his hands up. “Sorry, sorry. Not really because it’s true, but my timing was poor.”

 

“It’s not  _ flirting  _ or whatever else you think it may be. It’s just…” Grantaire struggles to find the word.

 

“Weird?” Joly supplies.

 

“Really fucking weird,” Grantaire agrees.

 

Joly sighs. “Okay. Here’s the deal. Enjolras literally lights up any time you mention going to the store, and I can’t think of any sane person who has that reaction about going  _ grocery shopping.  _ I’m serious. If you suggest it, watch his reaction. Then tell me if I’m wrong.”

 

“Uh, okay,” Grantaire says. “Hey, Enjolras? I’ve got to grab a few things from the grocery later, do you want to tag along?”

 

True to Joly’s word, a huge smile splits Enjolras’s face. His eyes are bright and his voice happy as he says, “Yes, I’ll come,” before resuming his conversation with Combeferre. Grantaire stares at him in shock.

 

“He,” says Grantaire.

 

“I know,” Joly groans.

 

Grantaire blinks. “Oh.”

 

Joly just shakes his head.

 

And Grantaire can’t shake the thought. He’s drawn for the remainder of the meeting, head bowed, as he goes over every instance he and Enjolras have shared grocery shopping over the past few weeks. Enjolras’s blush, the pseudo-date, that damned,  _ damned  _ smile. And the way Enjolras is hopeful and happy, and lingers and laughs and doesn’t seem to mind when Grantaire teases him, for once, and how domestic the whole thing would be if they were together. How they aren’t together. How he thinks they should be.

 

He’s still quiet as he and Enjolras walk to the store later on. Enjolras makes no comment, just walks closely by Grantaire’s side as to avoid the chill, humming a tune quietly. Only when they get to the doors of the store does he turn to Grantaire and say, “What are we getting?”

 

Grantaire startles. “Enjolras, what’s your favorite food?”

 

“Oh,” says Enjolras, startled by the question. He furrows his brow, thoughtful, before he finally says, “I suppose… Mum used to make the best soupe à l'oignon. It reminds me of home, in a way, and… It’s warm.” He smiles softly, lost in a memory. “That probably sounds silly.”

 

Grantaire shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It sounds wonderful. Do you know how to make it?”

 

“Why, I suppose I could try,” Enjolras replies. There’s a dazed look on his face, and curiosity alit in his eyes, like he can’t figure Grantaire out. “I could always text my mother and ask for the recipe too.”

 

Grantaire nods. “Okay. Because I’d like to make it for you, if you can help me find the ingredients. As well as a dessert, something simple. And we could watch a movie or something, if you want. Fuck, I’m doing this all wrong—”

 

“Grantaire?” Enjolras interrupts. Hopeful.

 

“Enjolras, I’m trying to ask if you would like to go on a date with me,” says Grantaire finally.

 

And that ridiculous, beautiful smile is back. “It’s about damn time you asked,” he says, and Grantaire doesn’t even get a second to think of a response before Enjolras is stepping forward and kissing him.

 

He stumbles back a half step, startled by Enjolras’s forwardness, before his head catches up to his heart and he grabs on to Enjolras’s shirt to keep him close. It’s chaste, as far as kisses go—there’s time later, of course, over dinner or early mornings or any time at all. Enjolras breaks the kiss when he starts laughing, and Grantaire laughs too when Enjolras shakes his head and says, “What took you so long?”

 

Grantaire says, “What do you mean, what took me so long? I was—Enjolras, were you trying to seduce me with  _ produce  _ because that is just wrong—”

 

Enjolras kisses him again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**To: joly**

**[5:45]** thank you

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  
  
  


“You didn’t have to come to the grocery store with me,” Enjolras complains. “I’m plenty capable of shopping by myself, thank you very much.”

 

“I’m more worried about making sure you buy the best possible versions of things because I don’t want to disappoint your parents when their asparagus is wilted,” Grantaire counters. He grunts when Enjolras squeezes his hand just a bit too tight. “I’m  _ nervous _ , cut me some slack.”

 

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “You’ve got no reason to be nervous, you know. I love you, so they will too. Even if they don’t, what does it matter? You’ve still got me.”

 

Months ago, Grantaire might have said something snide. Weeks ago, he might have bitten out a teasing remark about wondering if it was too late to change that. But today, he’s in love. And he is  _ loved  _ in return, and his life for the past little bit has been insane, with a showcase offer and a boyfriend and the happy company of his friends. They’re building a life together, one that’s different from the life they’ve known up until this point, and while it’s all happening outside of the grocery store and will happen long after this place is gone, it started here. Maybe he’s sentimental, because of that. Or maybe it really just is the nerves of meeting Enjolras’s parents for the first time.

 

Maybe it’s everything.

 

Enjolras picks up a sad looking tomato and shows it to Grantaire for approval.

 

“How lucky am I to have you,” Grantaire says finally, and makes Enjolras put down the tomato before pressing a kiss gently to the side of Enjolras’s head. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me [here](https://tonytangredis.tumblr.com/).
> 
> comment, kudos, bookmark below!


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